BSG What Is
by Mariel3
Summary: You can spend too much time worrying about what if. Sometimes you just have to go with what is. AR


Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I do like to play with them. They don't complain, (I kinda think they enjoy it, actually) and I'm making no money from it, so please, just sit back and enjoy, if you're so inclined...

A short A/R piece, about nothing much at all.

**What is**  
By: Mariel

* * *

Random touches coalesced into a warmth that flooded through her in hot waves of euphoria. He had taught her this; helped her learn how to trust and let go and give herself up to what was. 

He held her now, strong arms surrounding her far more fragile form. Water reed against solid rock, she clung to him as a river of growing satisfaction washed over her. He moved inside her, his steady rhythm a counterpoint to their pounding hearts, and her breath caught as she felt a still greater surge flow over her and into her and through her. Clutching him tightly, she fought against the current, fought- and then gave herself up to it in the very moment he pushed against her and held, a rumble in his throat and a throb inside her signalling his release.

Her low moan joined his in the air over his rack.

He slid down beside her and held her closely against his body.

She thought maybe he loved her, and it was a thought that no longer frightened her.

She thought perhaps she loved him.

That didn't frighten her so much anymore, either.

-xxx-

Hours later, she awoke to the feel of his fingers lightly trailing across her skin. Her flesh responded in a languid, satisfied way that pleased her.

"Mmmmm..." she hummed, pressing herself against him. She draped herself partially over him and looked down at his face. Overcome by the heat in his gaze, she bent down and nipped his lower lip with her teeth, trailed kisses across his jaw to his neck.

"This is madness," she whispered, her entire body aware of him. People their age didn't do this. People in their positions knew _better_ than to do this.

But here they were, at their age and in their positions, doing this anyway.

And doing it, she thought with satisfaction, very, _very_ well.

She sighed contentedly. He smelled good. He tasted good. And everything he did _felt _good.

Closing her eyes, she savoured the touch of his hands as they travelled her back and then cupped the sides of her breasts, his fingers gently caressing their soft underneath...

She responded to him and he to her until, with a low moan, she straddled him. Now the agressor, she pressed herself against the hardened length of his manhood, rhythmically rubbing herself against it, inviting him, teasing him, pleasuring them both...

"Laura..." he rasped, pressing upwards towards her heat, urging her to centre herself, to complete their union.

Doing as he wished, she forced herself to relax, to accommodate his presence within her. Slowly, they began their meeting, travelling back and forth, building the heat and the tension, their breaths becoming more ragged, their concentration centering on one point, one contact, until, with a sharp gasp, she paused, then slid up and down him more quickly because she knew she was coming and needed him to join her.

_Ah...yes..._

She collapsed against him, or he pulled her to him, it didn't matter which. What mattered was that he held her and she held him and the universe was good and safe and warm and perfect.

Still feeling small ripples of pleasure, she tucked her head against his neck and felt completely at peace for the first time since the world ended.

"You were right," she whispered.

"About what?" came his rumbled reply.

"Everything," she said. "We were crazy to deny ourselves this."

"Glad you agree."

She could feel a smile in the warm vibrations of his voice.

He moved her closer against him, and they settled into a more comfortable position. "Never worry so much about 'what if' that you lose sight of 'what is'," he told her. "We fell into that trap, and it can be soul-destroying. This is what is, and we'll deal with it and the repercussions. The rest of the universe will manage to do the same."

She nodded, loving the feel of his hands on her skin. "I know," she said, remembering his words.

_"We need to look at what's between us, Laura," he'd told her, his gruff voice resonating in the air between them.__ "Whatever it is, it's real__. We can pretend it's not there, but it is, and it isn't going away. Betrayals, treason, military coups...nothing we do destroys it. Ignoring it certainly hasn't had an effect, either. This is here between us and we need to deal with it. It doesn't matter 'what happens if' - it's time we explored what__ is." _

She hadn't been sure, just then, what that meant. Like many of his more stirring speeches, she was afraid it wouldn't make a whole lot of sense upon closer examination, but now, lying here in his space, she decided he'd been right. She'd spent far too much time worried about what the consequence of loving him might be. The cool, analytical part of her brain had chastised her for even considering the idea of following her feelings, had frightened her with possibilities both known and unknown, and held her immobile for a long time.

She should have known better than to try to conduct a cost/benefit analysis on a relationship with him; it couldn't be done. One thing she did know for sure now, however, was that the universe would survive her frakking William Adama. And it would survive William Adama frakking her. She looked at him, her eyes filled with soft adoration. The universe would survive the 'what is' between them, too.

It would have to.

The 'what ifs' could put themselves out of an airlock.

She smiled at that thought, and closed her eyes. When she woke up later, she'd figure out what to tell Billy about her prolonged nocturnal absence from _Colonial One_. He would, she supposed, need to be told the truth if she and Bill were going to manage this covertly. She paused, and almost allowed a shadow of worry to sully the moment. Resolutely, she shoved it aside. She and Bill would figure out how to handle things tomorrow. They would work it out. No matter what they had done, life would go on: there would still be the meetings and reports and crises and stress and all the other things that filled both of their days.

But now, underlying all that would be the warm reassurance of the 'what is' she shared with Bill.

Bill moved slightly and his arm tightened its hold on her. She heard him exhale contentedly, and then felt him relax into asleep. She smiled.

Their 'what is' suited her just fine..

End   
What Is  
Yeah, I know. The ending is kinda lame...Hope you enjoyed it, though.


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